3 hours
by Ms. Mimi Elphie-Amy
Summary: Mark is attacked and the group and Roger is slowly unravelling. Will their best friend be okay? And will Roger ever tell his 'brother' how much he cares? Told in Roger'sPOV -Violence, swearing, gore MarkxRoger if you tilt your head and squint- XP
1. Part 1

**Hello! :) I felt like writing Mark angst, so this popped into my mind. Enjoy and review!**

**p.s. I don't own Rent obviously, so don't sue me :/**

**p.s.s. This is part one of a twoshot!**

_How did I get here? How the hell?_

We never thought we'd be here...

Correction: _I_ never thought I'd be here.

I never thought I'd sit here, waiting for news of my best friend's miraculous recovery or of his death. We as a group sat there sadly, with Maureen fidgeting, Joanne sighing, Collins wringing out his hands, Benny rubbing his hands together, and Mimi twirling her hair. I was tapping out a random beat with my fingers, trying to keep thoughts of death and pain and punctured lungs and muggings out of my head.

I don't know about anyone else, but I'm regretting every mean thing I said to him (even if they were true), every punch and claw during withdrawal, and any backtalk I gave him as I sit here in the waiting room. I'm also praying to whatever God that's out there to kept my albino safe.

I never realized before how much I loved my best friend before now. I guess that what near-death experiences do to you.

Mark's a constant thing in my life, from being a shoulder to cry on to being annoying when telling me to take my meds. Just the thought of not being able to hear him gripe about me playing _Musetta's Waltz_ all the time is almost inconceivable. I can't imagine life without reminders about my meds or seeing that stupid camera on. I mean, how could I live without something that was always _there_?

Correction: How could anybody in this group live without our favourite filmmaker?

I know what will—_would _happen if Mark dies. Our group would fall apart. First Angel, now him? I don't think we could survive that.

I always thought Mimi would die before anyone else in this group would. It's not like I wanted her to die of course...I love her with my whole being. But _Mark_? The HIV negative filmmaker that could barely hold his own against a girl? Mark, the one to survive after we're all worm chow...Mark of all people..._dead_? It seems impossible, but a part of me knows that it's a possibility.

How did that all change in 3 hours?

3 hours was all it took for Mark to go from _alive _to _dying_. How the hell did that even work? I mean...Fate can't change her mind that often.

But she did, and now he's dying. He was so alive when he went to go filming...

"_Morning Rog!" Mark smiled, leaving his room. _

_Roger smiled at his friend from the couch, where he was tuning his guitar. "Morning to you too. Why are you so happy? Not that I object." Roger asked curiously._

"_Nothing." Mark smiled, entering the kitchen. Roger almost never saw Mark this happy. He was only this happy only a couple times before when he first started dating Maureen..._

_Realization made Roger grin happily, and he began to sing loudly, "Mark came back from his date last night/ And it's probably gonna be awhile before I get paid/ I told him he'd like her, and now I know I'm right/ But hey that doesn't matter because Mark got lai—"_

"_HEY!" Mark cried from the kitchen. Roger could hear him spit out all the tea he had in his mouth as Roger sang. Roger laughed, and cried out, "I'm just kidding camera boy!"_

A couple minutes later Mimi came up, and for awhile the 3 hung out, just laughing and talking (especially about the pretty woman named Nora that Mark slept with earlier). Until of course Mark decided that filming was important too, so he left them with the order he always did:

"_Take your AZT."_

Roger never thought that those would be one of the last phrases spoken to him by his best fri—_brother_.

"Hey..."

Everyone looked up to Maureen, the first one to speak in at least half an hour, who was in a plastic chair beside Joanne with tears in her eyes. But she had a small smile on her face, which shocked everyone.

"Remember the time when he was sick with the stomach flu? A couple of weeks after Mimi's recovery?" Everyone in the room nodded, except for Benny of course who wasn't there at the time. Maureen turned to Benny and told him the story softly.

"He was so upset. We all decided to go to this gay fair downtown, and he had to miss it because of his painful stomach flu. Well, we ended up missing it too in the end. We all decided to keep him company, and we all ended up on the floor and in every chair there was in the loft. We just talked and laughed with a sick Mark who was lying on the couch. It was so fun. We all ended falling asleep right there in the living room that night, and the next night we all slept in sleeping bags on the floor. For awhile Mark objected of course, since he didn't want to get us sick. But we stayed firm, and me, Pookie, and Roger ended up getting sick. He was so fucking guilty." Maureen laughed slightly, but it was mostly hollow.

Roger slightly smiled, remembering a whiny and sniffling Mark that still laughed through his illness from everyone's jokes and laughter—

But then the image from how he found Mark only an hour or two ago entered his mind and his blood ran cold...

_There was Mark, on the floor. His shirt was covered in blood and he was extremely pale. The blood was gushing out of Mark's chest, and Mark was gasping from his place on the floor—_

"I remember one time, when I was totally upset. Work was crap and Roger was at a gig. I was supposed to be there (at his gig), but of course I blew it off because of my mood. Anyone who knows me knows when I'm in one of my moods, not to bother me," Mimi smiled, looking at everyone. They all nodded, slightly smiling too, "Anyway, I remember I ran to my and Roger's room, passing Mark in a huff. I remember him asking what's the matter, but I didn't answer. I just slammed the door in his face. Then, I heard a knock at the door. I yelled at him to leave me alone. But he would not budge until I let him in. When I finally did, he seemed just as upset as I was, and asked sadly, 'What's wrong?' That sent me rambling. I told him how bad my day was and how I was totally pissed off and sad. I even ended up crying. But he held me, and told me everything was going to be alright. And he was going to make sure of it...and that he did. I woke up the next morning to find Roger taking care of a hurt Mark. Mark then told me of how after I fell asleep, he went over to the Cat Scratch to talk to the man that felt me up during my performance and made me so pissed. Mark ended up with many cuts and bruises, a couple of broken fingers and a fractured wrist. But the guy ended up with a broken nose because he ruined my night. That's when I knew Mark would do anything for his friends." Mimi whispered, holding onto my hand for dear life as she told her story, with very little humour. Maureen and Collins were slightly smiling, but the others were just staring into space.

_God, if only I had stayed inside with Mimi for once..._Roger thought as he remembered the past 3 hours. The day started normally enough...Mark did his usual thing of getting out of the house to film and shortly after he left Mimi and Roger followed to go have lunch at the Life Cafe. When they came back, their whole life changed...

_Mimi and Roger were laughing as they bounded up the building they have actually started to call home. They were laughing over something silly the waiter did when they were at the Cafe. They were holding each others' hands as they bound up the steps when..._

"_What the hell is that?" Mimi asked, pointing to the red stuff on the floor. The red stuff shined in the daylight, and by the looks of it, it was sticky. Roger frowned at it, but refused to touch it. "I have no clue Meems...But it's leading upstairs." Roger whispered, following the red trail with his eyes. He was right; it was heading up the stairs and it didn't look like it would be stopping._

_Slightly freaked out, the lovers walked up the stairs, now silent, and followed the trail. In some places, the trail was accompanied by handprints, and even some footprints. When the trail didn't stop at the stairwell that led to Mimi's apartment, they started to panic. Mimi and Roger walked up the stairs nervously, Mimi clutching Roger's hand so hard that it left marks on his skin. Roger was protectively in front of Mimi of course, ready to either beat the crap out of someone or to sprint down the steps. When they got to the top of the stairs, they were relieved yet shocked that the trail kept going up, up, up...up to Mark and Roger's apartment._

"_Meems, maybe you should stay in your apartment." Roger whispered, giving Mimi's hand a reassuring squeeze. Mimi was more than happy to oblige and she quickly went into her apartment. With a click her door was locked, and Roger hesitantly walked up the flight of stairs and therefore followed the red trail. _

_Roger walked up slowly, wondering what the hell was going on. He wasn't going to kid himself; he couldn't even think of anything that could be up in his apartment that would trail red goo. As he walked up the stairs, he found himself trembling slightly, and he cursed himself for doing so. He couldn't be afraid, he couldn't be trembling. He had to be strong and he had to be willing to do something if he had to. _

_The stairs seemed to take forever, but Roger had finally reached the last couple of steps. As he walked up, he realized that there was more and more red stuff on the floor now. So much it could practically touch his shoes. Roger gulped and kept walking up. _

_When he had reached the final step on which he could see his front door, he could see that his front door was open, and a small noise was coming from inside. The noise sounded like gasping and small gurgles, but he couldn't be sure. The redness was splattered all over the ground now, and a couple of red handprints covered the wall on the left of him. The ground had a few footprints leading up to apartment, and there was a puddle of the red just inside the door of the apartment._

_Roger couldn't take it anymore. Instead of walking slowly and thinking rationally, he practically sprinted to the door, and threw it open almost violently. What he saw on the other side was an image that would never leave his mind for the rest of his life..._

"He always would do whatever he could for his friends. When I first met the group, I knew no one except for Mark and Maureen," Joanne started, staring into space as she remembered, "God I was so nervous! I was never good at making friends...but despite the fact that I was Maureen's new girlfriend, Mark still found it in him to be a good person. He was the one who introduced me to everyone while Maureen was asking everyone how they liked her protest. He was the one who told me who I'd like and who I could probably start up a conversation with. As he dragged me around the Life Cafe introducing me to people I asked, 'Why are you doing this for me?' because from what I heard of we should be mortal enemies..." Everyone chuckled softly, except for me who was not really paying attention (all my attention was on the blue-eyed filmmaker in the emergency room), "Do you know what he told me? 'Because, if we pushed Maureen from both of our minds, we have the potential to be good friends.' That's exactly what he said. I was in shock of course, but he didn't let me recover for too long before dragging me around some more. He was so persistent." Joanne laughed, but like most of the laughs from that night, it was hollow.

_There was Mark, on the floor. His shirt was covered in blood—Roger realized in shock that the red stuff in the hallway was in fact _Mark's blood_—and he was extremely pale. The blood was gushing out of Mark's chest, and Mark was gasping from his place on the floor—_

"That boy got—gets guilty so easily. But do you know something else comes to him easily? Laughter. He loves to laugh. I remember once it was just me and him, hanging out, doing nothing except smoking a joint on the roof, and we just laughed nonstop. Now don't make fun of us, but we were exchanging embarrassing stories like a couple of teenage girls, " the group laughed softly at Collins' confession, "We had a blast though. We couldn't have had a funnier time. My stories (as usual) were outrageous, and his were flat out funny sometimes. But we had such a good time." Collins said, telling the story with a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face. I found that I couldn't smile...not with the memory from merely hours ago still in my head

_Roger ran over to Mark, and knelt next to him. Roger could _feel _Mark's warm blood seeping into his jeans, but it didn't matter. "Mark. Mark!" Roger cried, slightly shaking Mark from his place on the floor. Mark's eyes opened a little, and a small grin spread on his face. Mark lifted his pale, shaking hand, and placed it on Roger's hand, which was trying to stop the bleeding. Roger started to sob and he knew he couldn't do this on his own._

"_Mimi! Get the FUCK up here!" Roger screamed, trying to be as loud as possible, which was hard because of the tears. Within seconds Mimi was bounding up the steps, and when she entered the room she gasped and put her hand to her mouth to hold in her scream. _

"_Meems, I need you to call an ambulance." Roger sobbed. All Mimi did was sob and stare. _

"Mimi!_" Roger suddenly yelled, and Mimi jumped. "B-But we can't afford one." Mimi sobbed, but she still inched towards the phone._

"_I don't fucking care! Please baby, call an ambulance." Roger cried, still trying to stop the bleeding. By now Mark was out cold, yet his grin remained in place. His breathing was shaky, and some blood started to drip from his mouth. "Fuck!" Roger sobbed, trying to wipe the blood away as he held onto Mark._

_He could hear in the background Mimi calling an ambulance, but didn't pay attention. All that mattered was stopping the bleeding, or at least slowing it down—_

"Roger, you okay baby?"

I blinked furiously, and realized slowly that it was Mimi who was speaking and almost everyone was looking at me.

"What is it?" I asked, sort of thankful they saved me from the memory.

"We've been calling your name for a couple minutes honey. We wanted to know if you wanted to go home because Maureen, Joanne, Benny and I are going home to sleep..."

_Oh..._I look down, and only realize now that my clothes are still covered in Mark's blood...I suddenly feel very _dirty_...as if this was the blood of a child or a saint. It shouldn't be on me, but I can't leave. I could go home and change then come back, but how about if Mark wakes up? Or worse, if he wakes up and then dies? And I wasn't _there_? It'd kill me. I can't leave...I tell her just that.

"Okay...just go to the bathroom honey to clean yourself off. Please. Collins can sit and wait to see if a doctor comes while you get cleaned up." Mimi whispered, kissing my forehead.

I merely nodded, and rub her arm. She sighs and before I know it she's gone along with most the group. The only person left with me is Collins, who's closing his eyes and snoring softly. Leaving me alone with my thoughts...

**TBC...**


	2. Part 2

**Okay, Part 2 out of 3 in my '3 hours' story (Yeah, I changed my mind; instead of 2 it's 3). **

**Now, I have to ask you something people: Pretty please go to my profile page and vote. I have a poll there because I have no idea if I should kill Mark off or not. Also I'd like people's opinions on the matter. Or if you're too lazy to go vote, then please click that button towards the end of this chapter and REVIEW please :) **

"_It's on its way. They told me to keep the wound covered." Mimi sobbed, suddenly joining Roger beside Mark. She handed Roger a couple of towels, and Roger took them quickly to replace his bloodied hands. _

"_W-we should keep him awake." Mimi said, her sobs finally going away. She grabbed Mark's hand, and shook it slightly. "Babe? Wake up Mark..." Mimi whispered, trying to keep her tears in._

_After many tries, the couple couldn't wake their fallen friend. Even when Roger slapped him (which made a shocked Mimi yell at him) he didn't wake up. This not only worried Roger, but it also pissed him off. _

_He knew if he didn't Mark up, he probably never would. He knew because if he was right about Mark's injuries, Mark was in big trouble if he didn't wake up. Years of being a bartender taught him a couple of things: like about how to spot a drunken person who was looking for a fight and if a cut is deep or not. By what Roger saw of the wound, it was deep, and it was either a gunshot wound or a stabbing. He couldn't be sure. But both weren't good, so he had to get Mark to a hospital as soon as possible. He just hoped the damn ambulance would get there soon._

"_T-They told me to open the door to let them in and to wait downstairs. You stay here." Mimi suddenly whispered, getting up and wiping her face. There was a little blood on her hands and dress, but she didn't seem to care. _

_Roger was barely paying attention to her. The only person he cared about right now was Mark, whose breath was ragged, and who was still bleeding heavily. Roger was trying his hardest to stop the bleeding, but it wouldn't seem to stop. Blood was surrounding him and Mark and he vaguely wondered how much blood can come from one little man. _

_Roger fought to keep tears back as he waited impatiently for the ambulance. He didn't want anyone (other than Mimi and Mark of course) to see his tears. He couldn't let himself...if he of all people sobbed over this in front of everyone; you just knew that there was no hope in the situation. So he couldn't sob, because he couldn't live with the thought that there was no more hope._

"Rog? You okay man?" a voice asked, bringing me back. I blinked, and I realized quickly my eyes were wet, but no tears had fallen. I looked over to see Collins looking concernedly at me, with his large hand on my arm. I looked, and realized that I was gripping the chair as if my life depended on it.

"I-I'm fine. It's just, b-b-bad memories." I stuttered. My eyes then widened in shock, and Collins looked even more worried than he did before. I, Roger Davis, the rock star, _never _stuttered. It was rare when it did happen, and it only happened when I was _really _distressed...which didn't happen too much anymore.

"Man, maybe you should take a small nap...or go home to Mimi and relax. You need it." Collins said, looking at me intently and carefully.

"No...I have to stay for Mark. If roles were reversed, Mark would do the same for me, and we both know it...I _need _to be here, just in case he wakes up." I whispered, wringing my hands. Collins just nodded understandingly, and sat back in his seat.

I sighed heavily then and looked at the ceiling. I had to admit I was tired, but I just couldn't fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, or tried to, I saw Mark. Mark happy, Mark sad, Mark alive and well, and Mark...I shook my head quickly to rid it of the images, and I decided to keep my eyes open.

_A minute later, sirens were heard, and Roger smiled slightly. "Mark, the ambulance is here..." Roger whispered, even though he knew Mark wouldn't wake, "You're going to be fine...just fine." _

_The next few minutes were a blur for Roger. One minute he's kneeled by Mark, blood all over him, and then the next minute he's on the side watching the paramedics try to wake up his best friend and to stop the bleeding. The next thing he knew, Mimi and Roger were the only ones in the loft, both covered in blood and the ground in front of them was as well. The sirens were retreating, and the silence was overwhelming._

"_C'mon Roger, let's call the others and find a way to the hospital." Mimi suddenly whispered, grabbing Roger forearm. But Roger didn't move; he just stared at the spot that Mark had been only a minute ago. _

_Roger felt completely numb. He felt bile in his throat, but he kept it down. He still couldn't believe it...that someone could hurt his beloved Mark. His best friend, his brother. If Roger ever found the son of a bitch that hurt him, the asshole was going down..._

"_Babe..."Mimi whispered, grabbing his shoulder and massaged softly, "We have to go and see if Mark'll be okay."_

_That made Roger take a shuddery breath and stand up. His legs felt like lead, and all he wanted to do was collapse and sob for his friend, as if he was already lost—_

_Roger froze for a second, and then visible determination showed on Roger face as he pulled Mimi towards the loft's door, not pausing to clean up or change._

_He _wasn't _going to lose his Mark. Not if he had anything to say about it._

I have officially lost that mentality.

A commotion had stirred me awake (I apparently fell asleep just for a few minutes), and what I saw wasn't pretty.

An old-looking woman was on her knees on the floor, sobbing as a man kneeled beside her to wrap his arms around her. Pure grief and pain was evident in the woman's eyes, and all I wanted to do was cry with her.

Instead I looked away.

I looked towards the white ceiling, my jaw clenched as I tried to think of _anything _other than Mark. But it seemed as if it was impossible. The damn albino refused to leave my head. All I want to do is _sleep_ Goddamnit! But no...I'm not allowed to sleep, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to for awhile after this, even if Mark made it—

_He _will _make it!_ I thought furiously.

"Rog?"

I looked up to see a worried Collins.

"What?"

"Go to the bathroom. You're covered in blood."

"I—"

"_Go._" Collins said, and his tone showed that there was no arguing over the point.

I just sighed, and stood up. I realized that the woman was still on the floor, sobbing. The doctor was gone, but the man was still clutching the woman to his chest. I shook my head and turned away. I couldn't think about that stuff. Those thoughts would only lead to—

_No!_

I took a deep breath and was surprised to find myself only a few steps from the bathroom. I rushed in and had to take a second look into the mirror in front of me.

I look like pure _shit_!

My hair is fuckin' messy, my hands and clothes are bloody, my eyes are way too bright, and I looked like a ghost.

I was actually scared. I made a frustrated noise that seemed more like a choked sob, and I rushed over to the sinks. The only thought I had was to get the blood off of me. I felt so _dirty!_ All I want to do is take a long shower and rub my skin raw.

But that was the last thing I could do, so I turned on the tap on full blast, and began scrubbing.

I scrubbed his hands, arms, and face raw for what felt like hours, and I didn't even notice when the door opened and a tired looking Collins came in. I was so engrossed that I didn't even notice the wetness falling from my eyes.

I was so engrossed that I practically jumped a foot in the air when Collins touched my shoulder. I gasped and held onto the sink as if it was my only life raft. It was only then I realized that tears were falling quickly down my cheeks and that my skin was a bloody red despite the fact that there was no more blood on them.

I wiped my eyes and felt sick. I couldn't do this...I simply couldn't. I wasn't ready to face the death of someone I loved. Angel was hard, but this...I was pretty sure this would kill me. I actually had no doubt.

Mark's my only true family...Not in blood, but in soul. Sure, I'm close with Collins, Mimi, and I even daresay Maureen and Benny...But Mark was a completely different story. He's the only one who refused to walk out on me even though everyone else had; he was the only one who knows me inside and out, even more so then Mimi.

Him and I have been "Mark & Roger" for many years now. For years, if you could find one you could easily find the other, or if you insulted one, you were in deep trouble from the other. It's just always been that way. But now...

Tonight "Mark & Roger" might just become "Roger"...and if that happened, I don't have a clue what would happen to me.

I couldn't stop the tears now. It was simply impossible to do. Thankfully Collins was there for me throughout, holding me and telling me all would be okay. But I knew it wouldn't.

_If Mark gets out of here alive, I'm going to make sure he knows how much I care._ Roger thought, wiping the tears away when they finally slowed.

"Thanks Tom." I croaked, looking at myself in the mirror. I chuckled slightly. I looked worse off from when I entered.

"You're welcome boy. You know, you shouldn't hide your feelings. We all know how much you love Mark. We understand, or at least I do." Collins whispered, patting my back.

"I can't Tom...Not until he's gone. I can't let him do this to me, I can't break down until he's under the ground and there's no way in hell he's coming back up." I whispered, wiping any remnants of tears off of my cheeks. I hate crying. It made me look so vulnerable. The only people who have ever seen me cry was Tom, Mimi, my mother, and...I gulped and fought against tears once more.

How the hell did these tears keep coming? You'd think that my eyes would be dry of tears by now...

"Alright, if you insist...Now, c'mon, let's go get some coffee or something. I just talked to the doctor who's working on Mark and he says that he can't really tell us anything yet but he will in a few hours time." Collins said, casually draping his arm onto my shoulders.

To say I was disappointed with Collins' story was to say the least.

**Sucky way to end this chapter, but that's all I got for now :P Pretty please review! :)**


	3. Part 3

**Gah, I seriously can't stop writing for this one, so for now I'm not going to promise you or tell you how many chapters are left. For now, you're left to guess (cuz I sure as hell am lol)**

**Enjoy and R&R**

I impatiently sit here in the "waiting room" once more after me and Collins' quick coffee break (I refused to stay more than 25 minutes just in case Mark's doctor came out with some news). As I sit here, my imagination was going wild as it always did. So instead of me sitting in a waiting room, in my mind I was sitting in what felt like a cemetery of lives and hearts. It's where the remains of people that are still living are buried.

If I'm not careful, and if Mark doesn't make it...I'm afraid a piece of my heart will be left here.

See how poetic I can be?

And no, I don't care how corny that sounded. This type of situation changes you...actually; any situation that consists of a loved one being hurt can change you. Take me for example.

Collins is snoring softly beside me, though I don't know how he can sleep...well, I kind of can, since the coffee that was supposed to keep us up sucked ass and he didn't see Mark bleeding to death on the floor in front of him earlier today.

So he luckily gets to sleep tonight.

I unfortunately do not.

So I just play with the empty coffee cup I still have in my hands, missing my guitar and wishing more than ever for everything to rewind so I could stop all of this from happening. Stop him from going out earlier today or hell, even go with him. But sadly there was no man suddenly coming up to me and asking if I wanted to back in time; no portals or magic potions either. No scientist and an old car waiting to go "back to the future" with me. There wasn't even a magical remote I could use. Nothing.

Just me and the people in the waiting room, waiting for a doctor to come and make or break our lives to pieces.

Every time a doctor came around, I found myself sitting upright and praying it was for Mark. But every time it was for some other desperate family, wondering if their loved one was alright. Tonight apparently was a lucky night, because many people were leaving with smiles on their faces. But there were the rare few...

"Family of Mark Cohen?"

I froze. Was my sleep-deprived mind tricking me? I did I just hear a doctor calling out for the family of Mark Cohen? I sat up straighter and looked around. Yep, there was a doctor, with a small board in hand and looking around the room.

"Family of Mark Cohen?" he asked again, frowning.

I quickly plucked up the courage, and I found myself saying crying desperately, "Over here!" before my brain could connect with my body.

The doctor sighed and made his way over to me. I quickly turned around and shook Collins awake, who awoke with a jolt and a confused look on his face. I indicated towards the doctor, and his eyes instantly widened and he fought his way to his feet.

"Hello..." the doctor said, holding his hand out to shake.

"Tom Collins. And this is Roger Davis." Collins answered quickly, taking the doctor's hand. Thank God for Collins. He must've somehow known that my body was shaking so horribly that there was no way I could've grasped his hand, let alone introduce myself.

"Hello." The doctor said politely to me before returning to talk to Collins, the obvious talker of the two of us at the moment.

"Okay, so about Mr. Cohen—"

"Yes?" I asked eagerly. I couldn't help myself...I've been clueless about this whole thing for so long and I couldn't do it anymore. I just had to know.

The doctor coughed uncomfortably before continuing, "Well, I have both bad news and good news." The hope within me that he'd be alright plummeted. I didn't like the sound of this 'bad news'. I felt myself practically deflate at his words. "The good news is: he's in stable condition. Bad news is, we don't know how long we can keep him that way. You see, he's breathing through a machine as of now but it's very hard for him to breathe period. When you brought him here, Mr. Cohen's lung was very close to collapsing—"

"So his lung was punctured?" Collins interrupted his eyes wide. He looked as if someone just told him that it was his last day on earth.

"Unfortunately yes." The doctor said with a small sigh. It was with these words that I felt as if I would collapse. _A punctured lung..._I'm no doctor, but I know that a punctured lung wasn't good. I know that this could mean very bad things for my best friend.

"So, there's around 60/40 chance that he'll survive this thing, but please know that that's good odds for someone with his case." The doctor said confidently.

But all my mind processed was the 60%.

"60%? _60? _You're telling me that there's a 60% chance my brother could _die_?" I cried helplessly, staring in shock at the doctor. I barely noticed the look Collins was giving me a look for calling Mark my brother. But hey, why should I lie? He _is_ my brother...not by blood but by soul.

"Yes, Mr. Davis. There's 60% chance of death...but again this is good odds for someone—"

"I know, I know. But that my brother isn't just some random person with a medical case. This guy is so important to me and to so many other people Doc. Plus, did you even take into account that he's not the healthiest guy in the world? God, with his size I wouldn't be shocked that he has anorexia. Or how about the fact that he had the poorest circulation in the world! Or at least in the New York area! Did you take any of that into account?" I asked worriedly, knowing that I might be going too far and that I was losing it. Collins went to grab my shoulder, but I quickly pushed it away. I didn't want to be weak...I had to be strong, simple as that.

"Relax Mr. Davis. Yes, we have taken all of that into account. He's a little malnourished I'll admit, and he does have very poor circulation. But we have it all under control sir. You just relax with your friend, and I'll come and tell you if there are any changes." The doctor sighed, placing a bony hand on my shoulder.

I instantly calmed down; despite the fact that it was one of the hardest things I had to do. I didn't want to thrown out of the hospital, nor did I want to get towed away to the mental ward. I didn't even want to be drugged at that moment, even though the urge for hit was getting worse by the hour. I just wanted to be told how Mark was. I wanted to hear that he was okay.

The doctor left then, but I didn't really notice. Instead I fell into one of the waiting room's many chairs with a sigh and put my head in my hands. I couldn't do this...

_And I thought watching Angel die before us was hard..._

I guess I said that out loud, because before I knew it Collins was looking at me with an almost angry look.

"Mark isn't _dying _Rog...the doctor just told us he was in stable condition." Collins whispered, his voice not matching the hard, angry look he was giving me. His voice was almost gentle.

That's the excuse I'm using as for why I suddenly snapped at him. He was being too gentle.

That and he only heard what he wanted to hear. That Mark was okay...

Sadly, I'm the type of guy who gives you truth when you want lies.

"Yes, but did you also hear with your amazing hearing that they have no idea how _long _they can keep him that way? That and uh, I don't know, he has a _fucking punctured lung!"_

"Roger Malcolm Davis, don't you _dare _snap at me! You think you're the only one going through hell here?" Collins asked in a deadly voice, his eyes staring me down.

That sure as hell put me in my place.

I instantly looked away and groaned. I didn't want to snap at him or hurt him anymore then he already was. I mean, he already lost a loverin this hell called a hospital. He didn't need me snapping at him when he was already plagued with the fact that he might just lose one of his best friends today in the place he lost the love of his life.

"Look Davis, I know how hard this is for you. I know how hard it is to lose someone important—" here his voice choked up, "but you can't start pushing away and snapping at the people who are going through the exact same thing. Mark means a lot to all of us. He might mean a whole lot to you, but please remember you're not the only one who knew—_knows _him." Collins whispered, staring into space.

I just answered with a sigh, and gave him a one-armed hug. Now I felt supremely guilty, and I've never been good with the whole apologizing thing. So the—hopefully comforting—hug would have to do for now.

As for me, yet again I'm waiting in the dark for information about my hurting best friend.

Woop-de-fucking-do


	4. Part 4

**Hey guys! I'm SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO sorry for lack of updates. I'm going through a dry spell in inspiration and my muse jumped out the window. But I think I got her back temporarily because she helped me write this wonderful chappie :) Enjoy the long-awaited Part 4:**

_I'm in a dirty alley; a dark one...The only light is from the small yellow light hanging up in the middle of the alley and from the cloudy skies. Mark and I are talking about something—I don't remember what about—but apparently it's an interesting and fun conversation because him and I laugh at least 2 or 3 times during the conversation. _

_Mark and I had just finished laughing about something when I first see them._

_2 big, burly men, both with sneers on their faces. I don't have to be a genius to realize that these men are bad news. Mark seems to notice them too, and whispers, "Maybe we should go the other way."_

_Well, I know it's not the best idea to turn your back on the enemy, but all I really want to do is get Mark and me out of that alley before we get hurt. So against my instincts I turn around and begin to speed walk away, almost dragging Mark with me. I vaguely hear that the burly thugs are calling out to us, asking us where we were going and why were we leaving them un-entertained, but I ignore them. _

_I almost cheer in victory as we neared the exit, but just as we neared the light at the end of the tunnel, we met some more trouble…the trouble coming in a another burly man, sneering as he blocked the exit._

_I hear Mark gulp beside me as we both back away from the newest thug. I begin to panic, knowing that we two couldn't handle three thugs, but I'm also determined to get through this alive...and hopefully intact. _

_My one regret later on was forgetting how scrawny and—though Mark would get pissed at me for saying so—helpless Mark was. At least against these guys. If I was with Collins, Benny and hell even Maureen, I'd be fine I knew…but with Mark it was a different story. He wouldn't hurt a fly if he could help it._

_I forgot about that simple fact at the time…_

_That was something I'd pay for._

_Mark suddenly grabbed us both to make us back to back as the three thugs drew nearer, and I felt myself shaking slightly; from both fear and adrenaline. "Be careful." I whispered low so only Mark could hear. _

"_You too." He whispered back, trying to look fearless but failing miserably._

"_Well well, looky here boys. Two fags." One of the thugs laughed, eyeing us both as if we were a piece of meat. _

"_Leave us alone." Mark angrily hissed back with the slightest hint of a quiver. _

Oh Mark..._I mentally sighed, trying to eye all three thugs to try and detect if they were going to throw a punch and trying to find a way out at the same time. _

"_Oh, wow boys. The poor little scrawny queer is trying to protect his big-man queer." Another one of the thugs laughed, going into his pocket. I instantly tensed. _He either has a gun or a switchblade in there, two things I don't want to see. _I thought, clenching my two fists._

_I vaguely realized as I stood there paralyzed that if this was happening two years ago when I was still a junkie, 2 main things would've been happening: 1) we wouldn't have stood a chance and 2) I would've been trying to kill these guys already. But like Mark would say: I'm acting quite uncharacteristically for me. I'm actually calm (for the most part) and thinking before I act...well, except for the fact that I'm just beginning to feel anger coursing through my veins and I honestly wanted to kill these guys for even daring to come up to us. And I also hoped that Mark was feeling the same way, or we're doomed._

"_Look, we don't want any trouble. Hell, we don't have anything to steal." I said carefully, eyeing the two men in front of me. They just laughed at my attempt to get out of this unscathed._

"_Everyone has something to steal..." one of the thugs drawls, eyeing the two of us. By the looks of things, he's the smarter one in this group. Of course, that doesn't mean much because it's quite obvious that none of these guys graduated high school, but still...3 burly men, 1 of them relatively smart..._

We're so fuckingscrewed

_I honestly don't know who threw the first punch, but quite suddenly all of us are in a brawl, something I wish we could've avoided. We're all just one big cloud full of exclamations, blood, violence and fists. I try to watch over Mark while I fight, but soon enough I lose my concentration to the first two guys who were double teaming me._

_I don't know how long the fight lasts, but it feels like forever (though I bet it could've hardly lasted more than 20 minutes). Finally though, I was able to knock out both men (no easy feat let me tell yah) and I quickly start to twist and turn, looking for Mark and the smart mugger…_

_What I see makes me want to choke and kill anything and everything in my path._

_Mark was crumpled on the floor of the alley, covered in blood and dirt. He looked unconscious or quite near it, and...the mugger was still beating him up. It looked like the smart mugger was going to beat Mark until he was a pulp, or at least within an inch of his life. _

_With an almost inhuman war cry (something I didn't realize had come from me until much later) and an adrenaline rush, I ran at the man and with all the strength left in me, I attempted to tackle the man to ground._

_Something that fortunately worked._

_The man was taken by surprise and fell to the cement with me on top of him, thankfully away from Mark, and before I could even contemplate on what type of torture I could inflict on the asshole, my fists were punching the mugger in the face as hard as they could. I needed to hurt the dude; hurt him as much as I knew Mark must be hurting. I kept punching and punching...and punching some more even when the impacts of my fists had finally knocked the sonofabitch out. My self-control was out the window, and I was too far gone to remember that Mark was near me, probably bleeding to death. _

_All that existed was my fists in the asshole beneath me…_

_... Until I heard someone croaking my name._

_I looked up curiously, my fists slowing down the tiniest fraction. It was then that I remembered everything; where I was, who I was with, why I was punching the mugger beneath me...and I froze._

Mark...

"_Roger?" Mark whispered again, looking terribly broken._

"_Oh God...I'm here Mark!" I cried, running—and almost stumbling—over to my best friend. I fell to my knees beside my broken Mark, who definitely looked worse than before. _

"_Roger..." Mark sighed in relief, a small smile showing on his bloody face._

"_Shh, shh buddy .I- I'm here. W-w-w-we're g-going to get you t-to a hospital, okay? But _stay awake_." I stutter sternly, taking my jacket off and looking for the most mortal wound._

There! _On his ribs. A long bloody cut. I quickly place my jacket on his wound, earning a painful cry from Mark. I jump at the sound, but I don't take the jacket off of the wound. Instead I try to comfort Mark by rubbing his shoulder and whispering what I hope are comforting words. His cries cease, but a grimace stays on his face._

"_There there...it's all gonna be okay. J-just hold on okay?" I whisper to him before looking around frantically for help. Nothing._

"_H-help..." I cry out weakly, "Help!"_

_Nothing and no one. I feel as if nothing can get any worse... I had to fight off and knock out three guys, I have a bleeding friend beside me and no one to help me out...how could it get worse?_

_Mark suddenly coughs loudly and harshly, making me look down worriedly at him. I gasp in shock when I see blood smeared on his hands and on the corner of his mouth. His eyes are closed, as if in pain. I want desperately to take the pain away and save him, but I need help first._

"_HELP!" I scream as loud as I can, which is loud because of my nights spent on the stage. I wait a couple of seconds before I scream for help again. Nothing._

_Mark's stopped breathing now. I keep screaming for help almost hysterically, trying to wake up Mark and keep him that way. I shake him; I cry out his name once in awhile; I talk to him...nothing. He isn't waking up..._

HE ISN'T WAKING UP!

"_Mark! Mark! Mark!"—_

"Roger! Wake up!"

"MARK!"

"ROGER!"

I gasp and sit up quickly.

I look around the waiting room almost hysterically, and it's only after I realize I'm not in the alley do I wipe my eyes to fully wake myself up. I feel wetness there, so it's obvious that I'm crying...weird, I've never cried because of a dream before.

This whole fucking thing is changing me so much I barely recognize myself.

After wiping my eyes thoroughly I look into the dark brown eyes of my waker and relax in the worried gaze of Maureen. Apparently they're back from their rest...and apparently I've been asleep for quite awhile.

"Rog? You okay now?" Maureen asked, looking concerned—an expression I wasn't used to seeing on her face and it was making me freak out.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Bad dream." I muttered roughly, my voice scratchy.

"Are you sure? You were shaking and crying and calling out for Mark."

Ah, that's why my voice is scratchy.

"I'm fine." I whisper, though it's far from the truth. All I really want to do right now is run up to Mark, wrap my arms around him and cry like a fucking baby.

God, if Mark doesn't die from this I'm going to break something in his body for making me feel this way.

"Okay pookie." Maureen shrugged, still looking slightly concerned.

"Don't call me that." I snapped as I fidgeted in my chair some more. God, it was just a dream, just a nightmare...

Well, more like a memory.

Everything in that dream was pure truth...except for the ending.

The ending of Mark dying and me doing nothing about it...that's pure fiction that my hurtful mind came up with.

In my real memory, everything right up to me calling for help the first time was truth...thankfully in real life someone had come seconds after I first called out for help and within minutes an ambulance was taking Mark to the hospital. He was saved in time, and in the end all he got was a broken rib and nose, 2 bruised ribs, 2 blood transfusions and many bruises and cuts. Thankfully he was out of the hospital within six days.

The ending of the fucking nightmare probably came from the helplessness I felt when I was trying to save my best friend.

I used to have this same dream over and over again within the first couple of weeks of Mark's recovery. It would wake me up screaming for Mark most nights. I freaked Mimi out a good couple of times. Once Mimi even called in Collins and Mark himself. That one was a sleepless night for everyone. It was one of the many times that the whole group gathered to help out one in need, like when Mimi went missing or when Angel was dying.

I shook my head of those thoughts as I looked around the waiting room. I had totally forgotten for a second that we were in a very crowded hospital and not in an essentially empty loft. I sighed sadly as I straightened up and wiped any remaining tears that clung to my cheeks, hoping that maybe, just maybe, no one had noticed.

But by looking at the concerned faces of Collins, Maureen and Joanne, I knew that that couldn't have happened even if I prayed for hours.

"Where's Mimi?" I asked, hoping to distract them.

"She had to go to work. The Café called just before we were preparing to visit. She tried to get off of it but it didn't work out so well—" Joanne stated.

"It got really ugly, so I ended up stealing the phone away from Mimi and yelling at her boss." Maureen said brightly and seemingly proudly.

"Then_ I_ stole it from Maureen and talked politely and _calmly _to Mimi's boss. In the end I was able to sell a story so good that he offered Mimi a raise if she went in today." Joanne said proudly.

"An offer she just couldn't resist. I mean, think of how much glittery make-up she could buy with that raise!" Maureen cried dreamily.

…I wasn't really listening to a word either woman was saying.

All I caught was that Mimi was at work and had gotten a raise. What I was really thinking about was where Mark could possibly be and how he was doing.

Was he impressing the doctors with how fast he's healing? Are his sky blue eyes opening to see a bunch of smiling doctors, who were telling him that he was going to be just fine? Is his skin mending, his bones healing, his blood flowing?

…Or were the doctors trying to revive him? Were they yelling "Clear!" as they pumped his chest and tried to breathe life back into him? Were they placing a white sheet over his closed eyes? Were they putting his body in a body bag and rolling him away?

"…Roger?"

I looked up and saw Joanne looking worried and confused.

_Shit. I dazed out._

"…Yeah?"

"Um…Are you okay?"

"…Yeah." I whispered, running my fingers through my hair distractedly and straightening out, desperately trying to forget the image of Mark being wheeled away in a body bag.

"Are you—"

"Will you guys fu—"I started to yell, beginning to get up from my chair. I was officially tired of people asking if _I _was okay, while they should be asking how _Mark _fucking is because he was the fucking one to—

I suddenly doubled over as I felt the breath rush out of me. I attempted to piece together what happened as I clutched to my throbbing ribs. As I gasped desperately for air, I realized quickly by the way Collins was letting his arm drop that it was quite obvious that he had lifted his bloody elbow to hit me! I tried to get enough air to yell at Collins, but before I could the man I desperately wanted to see right now came strolling into the room…

**CLIFFHANGER! DUH DUH DUH! …**

…**.-*cough cough***

***breaths in***

**-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

**Ok, I'm done :) lease R&R and please be patient with me! I hit serious writer's block, but I'm back, and I'd appreciate it if you guys wait a little longer for the last couple of chapters…**

**BTW, thanks to everyone who has stuck with me for this story :) Your support is appreciated soooooo much!**


	5. Part 5

**Okay, random question for anyone: anyone either heard of or obsessed with the show called '**_**The X-Files'**_**? :D It's officially one of my fave shows now and one of the episodes (**_**Redux Pt.2**_** to be precise) inspired me greatly for this chapter. So yay! :D (For those of you who haven't watched it, but like either Sci-Fi or cop/FBI shows, CHECK. IT. OUT! It's supermegafoxyawesomehottness! :D)**

**Anyways, sorry this took so long :P Inspiration didn't hit me until a few days ago and then this long chapter took a few days to write & correct, etc. So don't kill me :P and enjoy the chapter :)**

_Recap:_

_I suddenly doubled over as I felt the breath rush out of me. I attempted to piece together what happened as I clutched to my throbbing ribs. As I gasped desperately for air, I realized quickly by the way Collins was letting his arm drop that it was quite obvious that he had lifted his bloody elbow to hit me! I tried to get enough air to yell at Collins, but before I could the man I desperately wanted to see right now came strolling into the room…_

Well, the _second _man I desperately wanted to see right now strolled into the room.

_Mark's doctor…_

The balding man strode over to us quickly, looking as if he had some urgent news…

I felt my heart lift.

_He has to be here to tell us Mark's awake! He has to…I mean, what other reason would he be rushing like that? I could only see a man like him rushing to tell us good news…_I thought, blocking out anything my brain decided to throw at me to convince me otherwise.

I felt more rather then heard or saw Maureen and Joanne stand up beside me. I could also almost feel Collins overwhelming worry for Mark (and probably me as well).

Because of the doctor's swift walk, he got to us quickly and when I saw his sad eyes I prayed that he was sad because he wouldn't get the money from us he would get if Mark stayed long-term.

But sadly for me—us—that wasn't the case.

"I'm afraid you all will have to come with me. Mr. Cohen is not doing very well, and we must make sure you all say your goodbyes just in case."

_Just in case…_Those three words practically shattered me. Shattered my hopes, my dreams, my fake reality in which the doctor was just worried he was losing money…_Just in case…_Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them back.

_Jesus H. Christ, I can't do this…_I thought as I began to feel emptiness crawl inside me.

"Can—Can I take a moment p-please?" I hoarsely whispered, blinking quickly.

"Sure." The doctor said with a look full of pure pity. Usually this pity would piss me off, because Roger M. Davis, the "rock star" doesn't take pity and charity well…but I felt as if my whole body was numb to everything. I couldn't have cared less right at the moment.

Once the doctor had fully walked away to wait for us in the hall, I quickly wiped off any tears that threatened to fall. Thankfully Maureen and Joanne knew me well enough to look away; knowing vulnerability wasn't something I liked to show. My brain barely registered that Collins had left to call Mimi and Benny.

I breathed in deeply, and before I knew it a flashback had consumed me.

"_Rog, listen to me okay? Breathe in and out with me, alright?" Mark whispered, winding one arm around me. I tried to nod but I couldn't; the sobs and the lack of breath were in the way._

_Yes, that's right: I was having a panic attack at the moment._

_Mark told me later on that I had quite a small one compared to the ones he used to have when he was a kid, but I didn't really care; at that point it was one of the scariest things I'd ever felt._

_It was during my withdrawal when it happened. This was actually the one point in my withdrawal that I remember clearly:_

_The urge for a hit got really bad one night. I was practically convulsing in my room from the need. The night sweat soaked my skin along with my tears. My fingernails were digging into the palms of my hands, so hard that it was making my palms bleed. I was screaming into my pillow for most of the night, trying to get my frustration and my need out. Banging down the door hadn't worked earlier, so the pillow had to do._

_The clearest point though at that time was this: I was willing to do _anything_ for just a little bit of heroin._

_Anyways, Mark had come in to check on me during the night, I guess to make sure I was alive or to feed me or something. The moment he opened the door, I moved as quickly as my fragile body could to get through the door. But since my body was weak and in pain at the moment, I couldn't move fast enough to get through the door. Mark closed it swiftly was a small glare at me, one that said: "You sure as hell aren't getting through this door."_

_That pissed me right off._

_Before I registered what I was actually doing, my legs had pinned Mark to the floor and I began to mercilessly punch Mark over and over again, everywhere. Later on Collins told me that I didn't stop until I had drawn almost half a litre of blood._

_It was the blood gushing down from Marky's broken nose that stopped me._

I had just hurt my Mark…

_Mark Cohen; my best friend, my partner in crime, the one guy that had stuck with me during withdrawal and was _still _sticking by me…_

_I had just beaten Mark's face a bloody pulp._

_I got off of him as quick as I could go and crawled to the nearest corner. I know this wasn't a very "tough-guy" thing to do, but I had to get away from Mark. I couldn't let myself hurt him anymore._

_Before I knew it, my body was racking with sobs with the realization of what I had just did. I couldn't breathe; I couldn't think…well, I couldn't think of anything except for the pain. The pain of needing heroin, the pain of the gnawing guilt of hurting my best friend, the pain of the disgust I felt for myself at the moment for even touching Mark…_

_How could I be so stupid?_

_I started to bang my head against the wall of my bedroom, over and over again, trying to forget what I just did…but it wouldn't go away. It-It just _wouldn't go away!

"_Rog? Roger, shh…relax, breathe." _

_I stopped gasping, sobbing and banging just enough to see Mark moving slowly towards me. _

He's okay…he's fine! _I felt immense relief at that thought, and for a second I considered going to over to check if he was okay…_

_But my plan was thwarted the moment I saw Mark wince as he crawled his way over to me._

_The banging, sobbing and gasping began again with a new force, and I knew I deserved every throb to the head, every breath I didn't get in my lungs._

"Roger." _Mark said sternly and I quickly stopped banging my head; but the sobbing and gasping remained, and I couldn't stop either of them._

"_Roger," Mark said, more gently this time, "I need you to calm down okay?"_

_I rapidly shook my head, not wanting to calm down. I didn't deserve it. I deserved to suffer for what I did to Mark. And to Collins. And to April. And to Maureen…the list went on and on, and every name that was added to list made me sob louder and harder._

"_Hey, shh, stop Rog. Stop before you have a panic attack." Mark said ever-so-motherly, and I couldn't help the small chuckle following my sobs and gasps; Mark was such a mother hen._

_Besides, it was too late then; I was already well into my panic attack. _

"_Rog, listen to me okay? Breathe in and out with me, alright?" Mark whispered, winding one arm around me as he realized this small fact. I tried to nod but I couldn't; the sobs and the lack of breath were in the way. But I followed orders and attempted to breathe._

_After many attempts at breathing slowly and calming down, a few whispered instructions and comforting words, I found myself breathing regularly again, though with a few hiccups and a momentary sob here and there._

_When I was finally calm enough to register everything, I slowly registered that Mark's nose was still bleeding profusely, and the bloodied shirt in his hand wasn't helping. Whimpering softly (though I wouldn't have never admitted it to anyone), I grabbed another clean shirt and gave it to Mark, hoping to help. He took it gratefully with a smile and held it to his nose. _

"_Thanks Rog." He whispered, squeezing me gently with the arm that was wound around me. We stayed there comfortably for awhile, with Mark holding me and me trying to hold back sobs. We actually stayed like that until my shaking and need for a hit subsided (for the most part) and I fell asleep. _

_But before I fell asleep, I slowly realized how great a father Mark would be someday._

I chuckled softly before shaking my head slightly at the memory. I've reviewed and remembered that memory so much now that I've memorized just about every detail (besides, it was one of my only memories I have of the withdrawal, and many a time I've used it to beat myself up with…though I have to admit that I'm glad I remember that)

I breathed deeply again and again, controlling my breathing and my tears. By now Maureen and Joanne had gone to wait for the doctor, and Collins was waiting patiently beside me as I calmed myself down.

"Rog?" Collins whispered after a few seconds more of controlled breathing. I slightly winced at the nickname and Collins seemed to notice it, because he quickly corrected himself with, "Roger? Ready to go?"

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

I followed Collins to the doctor, and from there we all (Mo, Jo, Tom and I) walked quietly down the ICU **[A/N I'm assuming the ICU (Intensive Care Unit) is for people who need special attention like for people having heart attacks or something. If I'm wrong, correct me :)]**. People rushed, cried, sobbed, flat-lined and made miraculous recoveries all around us.

It was screwing with my head.

I had to fight against my hands' wishes to cover my ears. It was just too much at the moment. But I'm not going to back out and turn into a chicken now. No…Mark needs me now and I have to be there for him. He deserves it after all.

"Roger…Just breathe okay?" whispered Collins as we went farther and farther down the hall. I only nod my reply, even though all I want to do is yell and scream and cry.

After what felt like hours of walking down the hall we finally reach the room where Mark is. The door of the room is closed, but there's a window that helps me easily look in **(AN For those who watch X-files, the hall, the window and the room is EXACTLY like the one in **_**'Redux Pt.2'**_** from Season 5)**.

What I see makes me bend forwards and lean on my knees, all the while trying to keep breathing normally.

I can barely see Mark through the tubes and cords around him and attached to him, but I'd know that bright red hair and dorky face anywhere. Someone took off his glasses for him and cleaned the blood off of his face (thank God). Because of the lack of blood though, I can see Mark's deathly paleness, something that reminded me of _'Snow White'—_the story my mom used to tell my little sister when she was young.

Now I don't know which one I would've preferred: his bloody face or his pale face?

Neither.

I prefer the tomato flush that was on his face and neck when he left the loft earlier this morning (Wait, is it night time right now? The afternoon? This whole ordeal has made me lose my track of time) when I teased him about getting laid.

But I wasn't going to get that right now. For all I know, I would never see that again. So all I could do was pray to see it again and be thankful I at least get to see his face while he was—

_No, positive idiot. Think positive or you'll never get through this._

I took one deep breath before righting myself again, nodding to Collins who had a questioning look on his face.

I walk forward towards Mark's room, barely minding the pitying looks from the doctor as I pass him to enter Mark's room (Maureen and Joanne had already entered; I could tell by Maureen's overwhelming sobs and Joanne's soothing noises coming from the inside). Collins followed me, but didn't go farther than the door (he gripped onto the door frame for dear life it seemed when he caught a glimpse of Mark). I was the only one of the group not being overly emotional at the moment; but I guess that was because all of my emotion was spent outside.

I walked towards the sleeping Mark, who looked like he was only breathing because of the machine connected to his mouth. I was probably correct in guessing that. I went over to his bedside and grabbed his cold hand, musing over the fact that Mark was almost as pale as the white sheets he was lying on. Tears filled my eyes (where were all these tears coming from?) as I stared at my hurt best friend, who you could mistaken for sleeping if it wasn't for the machines and tubes surrounding him—which were the only thing keeping him alive.

At this moment, as I stared at him, I couldn't kid myself: **Mark was fighting for his life. **

And according to his doctor, **he was losing**.

By now I was so far gone that the tears gathering up in my eyes didn't bother to fall. All that mattered was the fact that Death was staring me right in the face—but It wasn't coming for me like I always thought It would;

It was coming for Mark, my best friend and brother.

**No cliffhanger's this time :P But it seemed like the best place to end it.**

**Anyways, R&R everyone! :) It makes my day and it inspires me and it takes so little effort, so please review :)**


	6. Part 6

**Hey! I apologize that this is so short; I was just desperate to get **_**something **_**out. This is the result. Enjoy Part 6 of '3 hours' Please review! :D**

Mimi and Benny showed up soon after Jo, Mo, Collins and I had settled down in Mark's room. Maureen and Joanne were sharing one chair and Collins was sitting near the door. I however was sitting right beside his bed, holding his hand like the people his mother or his girlfriend would be doing if they were here right now. I know I'm not either, but Mark deserved to have someone beside him, holding his hand and caring for him for once in his life.

Don't get me wrong though; I was definitely _not _ enjoying holding his cold hand and watching him fight for his life up close and personal…but I just know that if my mom or Mimi wasn't here if I was in his position, he'd be doing the exact same for me—no matter how much pain it caused him. So I decided to suffer in silence as I watched the machine breathe for him and waited for Mimi and Benny to find a seat.

Mimi eventually decided to go sit beside Collins after kissing my forehead and squeezing my free hand hoping to comfort me, and Benny—who looked horribly uncomfortable—stayed standing with his hands in his pockets.

Mimi had made a smart choice of seating, because as much as I love her, I needed to travel this road of grief alone—

Woah, what the hell?

Why the hell am I getting so sentimental? Damn, this whole thing was changing my way of thinking. I kind of hate that.

I began to stroke Mark's pale hand as I sat there, trying to keep on breathing normally. If I didn't, I knew I'd break down and cry.

I know what you're thinking: Roger Davis, the rock star, crying? _Puh-lease!_

Well, this is what happens when you aren't grateful for what you got and you don't tell your best friend—who you just _know_ God separated from you from before getting your moms' preggo because one of your moms couldn't handle you two as brothers–that you love him, almost as much as you love your girlfriend. God, I need to tell him that before he goes…I _have _to! Even if he isn't conscious enough to hear it.

"I hate to say this, but I have to go—"

Five guesses on who said that.

"To what _Benny_? What's more important than one of your _best friends_ dying?" Maureen snapped, pausing in her never-ending sobbing.

"Work, sadly enough." Benny sighed as he slowly and cautiously walked over to Mark's bedside (the opposite side of me). I felt a fierce protectiveness unleash inside me and for a second I considered picking him up and throwing Mark's other "best friend" out the door…but as I clenched my teeth and my fists I slowly began to realize that Benny had a right to be here—Mark and him _were _friends in college, and they do occasionally talk nowadays. It was only fair to Mark.

So, in a moment of self-sacrifice (it would`ve been fun to kick Benny`s ass) I decided to leave Benny alone.

It took all my self-control not to punch Benny's face in when he grabbed Mark's free hand and squeezed it to smitherins —_He squeezed it gently Davis. Fuckin' relax. _I thought to myself, reminding myself (not for the first time) that Mark won't break with the slightest pressure.

"I'll see you later Mark." Benny whispered lowly following the hand—(breaking) _squeezing_. At first I was about to yell at him for pretending that Mark was alright and I was just about ready to punch his face in when it hit me:

He was just trying to keep positive, something I had given up on awhile ago. He was basically doing something I didn't have the courage to do—building his hopes up even though there's more than one reason that'll be for naught.

Within seconds of this epiphany I realized that Benny was officially gone, which left the rest of us. Alone. With nothing to do except pray that the doctors are wrong and that Mark will pull through. Mark was strong; he could totally do this…At least that's what I kept telling myself. Because I was afraid of anything less being true.

No sounds were heard except for Maureen's very dramatic sniffles (Joanne had _finally_ calmed her). As I sat there, I sort of began to wish somebody would say something or do something. Anything really. Anything funny to be totally honest. We could all do with some laughs. We were one of those groups that had to be laughing and joking around to be completely comfortable around each other.

When Angel was in the hospital, it was usually Angel who filled these silences. She usually began talking about how shitty the service was in the hospital or how much she wished that she was able to wear anything but the drab hospital gown or how she needed a mirror because she must look _hideous! _(She never did…she looked amazing right to the end)

And if Mark was awake, I'm almost sure he would be filling these silences like Angel did. He always did picture Angel as some sort of role model.

As I sat there in the dreaded silence I began to imagine what types of things Mark would be saying right now if he were awake.

_Aww c'mon guys! Stop worrying. I'll be fine soon! After all, I've been through worse. Did you know I've almost been mugged 49 times?_

_Have you guys taken your AZT? You better not be neglecting your health because of mine…_

_God I hate this place! I can't wait 'til I'm out of here! When we do get out of here, we'll have to go to the Life Café because Angel was right—this hospital food is absolute crap!_

"I-I need to get out of here guys. It's just…kind of too much." Mimi suddenly whispered. I thought I'd feel anger at this, since I felt so angry at Benny for leaving, but I couldn't find it in my heart to be angry. After all, wouldn't I do the same thing if I was allowed?

_Probably…_I hated to admit to myself.

"I'm-I'm coming too." Maureen added quickly, jumping off of Joanne's lap, "I wanna go get some coffee."

"Right behind you." Mimi added as they both left the room hurriedly.

I gave the tiniest wave as they left the room before slumping in my chair. This was going to be a _long _night…

**R&R please! Oh, and if anyone has an idea or something for this story, please PM me or review me! :)**


	7. Part 7

**Hey guys! God, I'm so sorry it took me **_**so long **_**to post this…I just potentially lost inspiration for this story. But then today my muse decided to come back to me and she gave me this :) **

**P.S. It's official; this is **_**the last **_**instalment of the **_**3 Hours **_**story! So enjoy it! :)**

I sighed dejectedly as the last person—Collins—finally said goodbye (Apparently nobody could take the pain of seeing Mark's pale body anymore). Normally, for any other person probably, I probably would've been the first person out…

But this isn't anyone. It's _Mark_. Someone who would stay by my side—and everyone else's side for that matter.

So despite the fact that it's slowly killing me inside, I stay. _God, I hate being the martyr. _I thought with a sigh as I looked towards the door that Collins left through. I clenched my hands and looked away, knowing if I looked too long old habits would take over. After all, old habits die hard. I sighed as my eyes darted from the door to the clock above it, and my eyes widened marginally.

_11:00 p.m.? It's been 12 hours already? _I asked as I looked over my recent memories.

Yep, it sure seemed like it's been 12 hours since I found Mark bleeding to death on the loft's floor. And after a quick calculation (okay, quick in my sense of the word) it dawned on me that by what the nurses and doctor said, it's been 12 hrs and 46 minutes since Mark was almost…beaten to death…

God, no matter how many times I think it, it doesn't make it any easier to think, say or come to term with.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead to keep myself breathing evenly as I bent forwards. I needed to keep breathing easily before I began to panic…the last thing I needed was to be kicked out of Mark's room because I got over-emotional and freaked out.

_Wait, when did over-emotional get into _my _dictionary? _I thought with a frown.

I remembered when barely 2 years ago I was practically the King of Ice. The King of Hiding Emotions. The King of Reflection. So what the hell happened to me? What the hell brought me from the King of No Emotion to King of Emotional Wreck?

I opened my eyes and frowned at the comatose body beside me. _Stupid filmmaker…_I thought as I realized that it was all Mark's fault. After all, Mark got me through some of the worst times of my life. He refused to leave me at my most violent or at my most vulnerable. He was there for me whenever I needed advice or AZT. He was there to make me smile and give me inspiration.

Normally people would say that this was a good thing. That I was lucky to have Mark Cohen in my life…

But what people don't know is that when someone becomes your best friend, your partner in crime, the peanut butter to your jelly (which says a lot since Mark's allergic to peanut butter)…It all just leads to one thing;

Them worming themselves into your heart.

Once they get in, there's no turning back. Once they're past your barriers, they're a part of you. And it all leads ultimately to them caring for you and vice versa. And once you care for one another, it's easy to get hurt.

_Which is the case here…Mark isn't the only one hurt. _I thought with a grimace as I lounged back. By the looks of things, I was going to be here for awhile so—

_Beep…Beep…Beep…Beep….Beep….Beep…..BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!_

Looks like I'm not going to be here for awhile.

I gasped and within seconds I was standing up and shaking Mark. What he fuck? What was happening? Why was he flat-lining? There has to be a problem with the machine…It can't be him _actually flat-lining _could it be?

Before I could question this further though, nurses and a doctor were filling the room and surrounding Mark and arms were suddenly grabbing me and pulling me away from Mark.

_What the HELL? Is this person fucking NUTS? _

I quickly wrenched myself out of the person's grip, refusing to budge. Thankfully this person wasn't that big a person, so I had no trouble fighting to get away. Besides, I honestly didn't want to fight someone at the moment. My friend's flat-lining! _Hello? _

Of course though, because I had no luck, this person was a force to be reckoned with. This person was suddenly back again, grabbing my biceps and refusing to budge. I again tried to wrench myself free, but this person was not going without a fight. This person dug their manicured fingernails into my leather jacket, making me growl in frustration. This was no doubt a woman, so I couldn't just push her into a wall. My momma didn't raise me that way.

But that didn't mean I couldn't fight back in a non-attacking way.

I quickly slipped out of my jacket in a smart move of my own, leaving this woman holding my jacket while I rushed to the freedom that was Mark's bedside.

But this was not meant to be, because seconds later a much stronger person was grabbing me.

I knew without turning around that it was a young man grabbing me and dragging to towards the door of Mark's room. The man was probably at the prime of his physical strength, so I knew without a doubt that the sickly, unfit me (who has to seriously go to a gym after this is over) would lose in a fight. So I went in another direction.

"Let me go! _Let me go! _This is my brother! You can't fucking _pull me away _you _son of a bitch!" _I cried out angrily in my best 'don't-mess-with-me' voice. But it didn't seem to be working, because the guy was still pulling me away, all the while yelling over the hustle of nurses and doctors and the resonating beep in the room for me to stop fighting.

But I wasn't going down without a fight.

_You left me no choice. _I thought bitterly at the guy as I realized what I was going to have to do. With all my energy and strength I yanked one of my arms away from the guy's grip, made sure my elbow was facing the guy's gut and then with as much force as I could I brought my elbow swiftly down. My elbow hit his gut with a brute force I've never been capable before, even when I was in top condition, and my blow caused the guy to back away with a cough and a sputter. No doubt he was feeling immense pain now and if I'm being totally honest, I feel sorry for him.

But none of that matters now, because I'm running to Mark's beside.

The doctor and nurses were still bustling around Mark, trying to get his heart to beat by the time I reached his bedside…but by the loud, pure beep filling the room I knew he was still flat lining.

"Mark! _Mark! _Stay with me buddy! Don't you _dare _think about leaving me! _Don't you dare!"_ I yelled almost angrily. To be totally honest, I was angry. Outraged. How dare my best friend think of leaving me when I need him so much more than _anyone _else in this whole fucking world? How could he even begin to contemplate dying when he has so many people on Earth who love him and need him?

I know it sounds totally selfish and cruel to ask him to stay because we—I need him, but I honestly can't help being selfish when it comes to this. I can't help but selfishly hold onto him and not wanna let go. I don't think I could survive losing him…after all, I didn't take Angel's death and Mimi's near-death very well…how could I survive alive and well without Mark?

"Hey! Get him out of here _now!"_ The doctor suddenly cried after I yelled at Mark.

"No! No, _please!" _I exclaimed as I felt arms grabbing me. They were finally bringing out the big guns. This was my final chance. "Mark, stay with me alright! You need to live you motherfucker! Be the amazing unselfish man that we all love. That we all need! Live Goddammit!"

"Come on now, out you get!" the man from before muttered, dragging me away. I'm surprised that he recovered so quickly. But that emotion is quite vague compared to the desperation I'm feeling now as they pull me away. I know it's a losing battle; I know they'll never let me back to Mark's bedside. But I cannot help but fight anyway, because that's who I am.

"Dude, stop fighting!" the nurse, the woman from before, cried in frustration, "Stop fighting or I'm going to have to sedate you!"

For a second I actually considered letting her sedate me. After all, I wouldn't mind getting knocked out for a couple hours, letting my mind escape from this hellhole of a place, mentally escape from this whole situation…but Mark doesn't deserve that. He deserves me being there for him, right until the very end.

"Okay, I'll stop! I'll stop! Just—just please let me stay in the room." I begged, not caring that I stuttered yet again. The two nurses exchanged looks as I went limp in their arms and I could see a hint of compassion in both of their eyes. I give them both one last pleading look, hoping they'll give in and just let me stay. Even if I'm just in the corner.

I honestly don't give a fuck where I am, as long as I'm here.

The male nurse sighed before letting go of me, while the girl nurse rubbed my arm sympathetically before letting me go, leaving me free to do as I please.

Not wanting to get kicked out again, I backed up until I was in no one's way and I was leaning against the wall. The wall was a constant I needed at the moment, to hold me up literally, just in case my other constant fell from my grasp. I took shallow gasps as people around me passed in a blur, trying to revive my brother. I couldn't believe this was happening—just moments before this I was preparing to stay the night. Now Mark was looking into the eye of Death, alone, without me. A situation I never imagined, never thought possible.

I looked almost detachedly as a doctor and a couple of nurses tried to revive Mark. The doctor was shocking his system with the paddles of the revival device and was trying to breathe life into his lungs. Mark on the other hand was as pale as the sheets under him and was as skinny and scrawny as an awkward teenage boy. I almost feared that the doctor and nurses would break his ribs with all the punching they were doing with the battles.

"C'mon guys we're coming on 3 minutes here! Up the voltage!" the Doctor cried, rubbing the paddles together. My gasps became deeper and I slowly realized that if he didn't wake soon, I was going to have a heart attack. Or at the very least a panic attack.

The pumped on Mark's chest again, yet this didn't seem to get them anywhere. They breathed again for him, but there was nothing. They repeated these two steps one more time, but there was nothing. No hint of consciousness, no hint of a heartbeat, no pulse. This was the last straw for me.

"Mark, Goddammit, come back to us! _Please! _I love you!"

This of course, was taken the wrong way by _everyone _in the room, who now obviously thought I was gay. I probably would've laughed in their faces and then defended myself if this was in any other situation, but this isn't any other situation. I honestly care less what they think right now.

Mark needed to know I care for him, I love him. He needed to know that he was my best friend, the brother I never had. He needed to know, and I needed to tell him just in case he…died.

There I said it. He could _die _today. And because of this, he needed to know how much I care for him.

After gathering their wits again (everyone basically went into shock when I yelled that I loved Mark), they pumped the paddles into Mark's chest again and time seemed to slow. Everything seemed to freeze as we waited for a reaction from Mark. A breath in, a cough, a twitch…_anything._

But nothing came.

My heart stopped and I felt my legs shaking. I couldn't believe it…Mark had to come back! He _had _to! He couldn't just leave me behind. He couldn't! I took a deep breath, ready to scream at him, to get him up, to get him to breathe, when—

A loud and shuddery gasp filled the room.

Afraid my ears were deceiving me, I looked over at Mark's pale body. He was shaking on the hospital bed and his eyes were closed, but his chest…it was rising and falling deeply and slowly! He was breathing! I suddenly couldn't help the tears gushing down my cheeks and the laughter bubbling from my throat. He was fine…

And just as I thought I couldn't be any happier, Mark opened his blue eyes and looked around him. I grinned at him with the biggest grin I've ever given. I was just…too happy for words.

The doctor smiled at Mark and said, "Welcome back Mr. Cohen. We almost lost you there for a second."

Mark looked around, looking so confused and so much like a little child that I couldn't help but let out a sigh. He looked so…lost, and it kind of broke my heart.

"Where-where am I?" Mark croaked, sounding as if a little monster had scratched up his throat.

"You're in the hospital—you what? I'll let your…_friend _explain it to you, because he's probably dying to see how you're doing."

It took me a second before I realized that the doctor was talking about me. I guess I'm just still in shock. But really? Who can blame me? Just moments ago Mark was almost guaranteed to be put in the ground. But now…he's alive and he's…frowning?

"Which friend?"

I smiled happily. He _did _know that he had so many people who cared for him and loved him?...Then why didn't he come back to us sooner? _Not the time to wonder Roger…go talk to your best friend._

"The one that never takes his AZT."

Mark's lips instantly twisted into a smile, a sight that made me smile as well. The doctor smiled at us both, looking quite proud of himself, and when I had finally shuffled over to Mark's bedside, he whispered, "I think I'll leave you two alone." And quickly left us two alone with a quiet _click _of the door. I took the doctor's place so Mark wouldn't have to turn his head in my direction. When I got in Mark's line of sight, his smile widened and he looked like he couldn't be happier.

"Mark, if you ever do this to me again, I'm going to have to resurrect you and then kill you."

Mark laughed, which was quickly followed by a groan and his hand quickly came to his chest. Mental note: don't make him laugh. I sighed and grabbed his other hand and held it. I know this isn't a very _straight guy _thing to do, but who cares? Mark almost died today. Therefore, everything's changed for me.

"So what happened?" Mark asked, who seemed to have gathered enough of his wits to ask the question that's probably been on his mind since he woke up.

"Well…you were stabbed in the lung, you went into a coma and you almost died. But thankfully, the doctor and nurses brought you back from the dead." I said with a fake smile. I was trying to act like none of this bothered me…but I knew by the incredulous look Mark was giving me I wasn't doing well at hiding it.

"Okay, if I'm being totally honest…you scared the shit out of me Mark. Please, don't do this to me ever again." I asked my voice cracking. I saw some guilt flare in Mark's eyes and I couldn't help but feel guilty for putting it there…but I can't take back what I said. I don't want this happening again and willing to risk a little guilt to make sure it doesn't.

"I promise." Mark whispered, gripping my hand. Now, I know that Mark might not be able to keep that promise—after all, he can't control his destiny—but I can't find it within myself to be disbelieving. So I nod and grip his hand back.

A sudden knock makes us both twist around to look at the door. The doctor from before had come back. I send a quick prayer that he hasn't come to send me away.

"Um…just wanted to warn you, I have let your group of friends know you're awake and they refused to be deterred from coming in here. So expect company soon you two." The doctor said with a wink, earning an embarrassed blush from me and a frown from Mark.

Looks like I have some explaining to do.

**THE END**

**Okay, not my best ending. **

**So since this isn't the **_**best **_**ending, I've decided it's a possibility that I'll post a sequel to this :) It'd be small, only a couple of chapters, but it'll be a sequel and it'll give more closure to you and me I guess. **

**But I also want to know if you guys'll actually read. So to let me know you will, please go to my profile and vote for it (I'm posting a new 'Sequel or not?' poll) :) or if you're too lazy, by all means review! :D**

**-Ms_Mea**


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